A Post-It Scandal

“Here,” Troy offered his cardigan from the back of his office chair.

“Thanks. It's always so cold in here.” I took it, grateful.

On my lunch, as I crossed the parking lot, I stuck my hands in my pockets. It's a self-conscious habit I have when I walk. A paper crinkled. Without thinking, I pulled it out and saw it was a yellow post-it, filled front and back with two different scrawls.

The first scrawl, in green ink:

Will you wear the black pumps? The Italian leather ones? I want you to wear them barefoot so they will really smell by the end of the night. I can't wait.

I smiled despite being kind of grossed out. A foot fetish? Eww. Then I felt bad. This was not meant for me; it's none of my business. But I am a nosy jerk and I wanted to know more so I flipped it over.

The second scrawl, in blue ink:

You are such a perv! You do know the penalty for me wearing the shoes you bought for me, right? I don't know if your balls are up to the torment I have planned. But then again, I know how you like me to hurt them. Be warned. See you tonight for your punishment.

Whoa. Okay. More fetish. Troy obviously has a work hookup. Good for him, I guess. I sheepishly put the note back into the sweater pocket.

I returned back to the office I shared with Troy. There was a stack of files waiting for me with a post-it on top. Written in that same green scrawl: Please do these first. Thx.

I immediately did a snort-laugh. The note was from our boss. Our uptight, married boss.